“Harry Mangjeol is on the phone, Senator. He says it’s urgent, and he won’t talk to anyone but you.”
Tewilliger looked over at his legislative assistant, who’d stuck his head in the door. The senator really didn’t feel like talking to Mangjeol, who would probably ask why he had given the press a “no comment” when asked about the fate of the disarmament treaty when news of the troop movements broke. He’d done it because this was the time to be subtle, to maneuver behind the scenes while the president sweated in front of the cameras. As a rule, constituents didn’t understand that.
On the other hand, now was not a good time to blow Mangjeol off.
“When are the aluminum can people coming?” Tewilliger asked the assistant.
“Should have been here five minutes ago,” said Hannigan, looking at his watch.
That frosted him—senators kept lobbyists waiting, not the other way around. Especially greedy sons of bitches like Mo and Schmo, Tewilliger’s pet names for the two lobbyists who wanted more waivers in the upcoming environmental bill.
“Which line?” Tewilliger asked.
“Two.”
“Keep Mo and Schmo outside at least ten minutes before telling me they’re here,” Tewilliger told his assistant before picking up the phone. “Harry, how the hell are you?”
“Senator, I have important information from a friend in Korea. Very important,” said Mangjeol breathlessly. “It is . . . incredible.”
“What’s that?”
“Kim Jong-Il is to be deposed. A defector will take off tonight with a list of his foreign bank accounts.”
He’s finally lost it, Tewilliger thought, trying to decide how to deal with him. Sane or not, Mangjeol represented considerable contributions.
“Well, that is . . . incredible information,” said the senator. “But. . . Well, to act on it . . .”
“I will forward you the e-mail. If you can get it into the right hands.”
“Of course I can get it into the right hands,” said Tewilliger. Perhaps Mangjeol wasn’t insane. Perhaps the e-mail had some small piece of truth in it.
More likely it was part of a complicated phishing scam launched by Chinese pirates.
Then again, it might have some value. He could forward it to the CIA. . .
No, send it directly to McCarthy, or one of his people. Let them take the fall if it was phony.
“I would not believe that it was real,” said Mangjeol, “but it does contain specific details, including a location of a secret air base.”
“Send it, please,” Tewilliger told Mangjeol. “And how are your children?”